


10 years later

by Collectorofhats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Death Eaters, Gen, Muggles, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Collectorofhats/pseuds/Collectorofhats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one understood why she hated what everyone else thought of as perfect weather.<br/>Or why when someone told her that children are innocent she would shake her head and say nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 years later

**Author's Note:**

> I think I remember that during the first wizarding war some of the Death Eaters would kill muggles for fun. I thought that I would write a fic from the perspective of one of the muggles who’s family got hunted.

No one understood why she hated what everyone else thought of as perfect weather.  
Or why when someone told her that children are innocent she would shake her head and say nothing.

The sun had been shining the day the black clad masked men had come. When her father had seen them he had told her to hide and not come out, no matter what happened. The sun had been shining brightly as they broke into the house, yelling words she could not understand and making bright lights fly from the ends of the short wood sticks they carried.   
A soft spring breeze had played in her hair and across her skin as she had hid behind the couch, silently sobbing. Her father screaming and begging for the pain to stop, red light from their wands dancing across his skin.  
The smell of the flours in the garden, a lovely sweetness, had tickled her nose where she hid. The next moment there was a flash of green light, and her father stopped screaming.

The weather was perfect the day her father died.

She waited an hour after she had heard them leave before she creeped out from behind the couch. Her father was lying on the floor, stiff and cold, his face a distorted mask of pain. She had began to approach him when she heard a noise in the kitchen. One of the men had come back to see what he could steal and was looking through their cupboards.  
Before she knew what she was doing she had grabbed a knife off the counter and jumped on the mans back. With her legs and left arm she had held on, piggyback style, struggling to stay on as he struggled to get her off. With her right hand she had stabbed any part of him she could reach. By the time he lay still and cold on the kitchen floor, she was stained red and was shaking from fear and shock.  
Men had soon arrived to take care of the bodies. One of them had waved a wand at her and she had fallen asleep. When she woke up she knew she wasn’t supposed to remember what had happened.  
But she did.  
She never told anyone about it, and they all believed that her dad had died of a heart attack. But the mask from the man in black robes stayed hidden in her bottom dresser drawer.

She was still a child the day she killed a man.

No one understood why she hated what everyone else thought of as perfect weather.  
Or why, when some one told her that children were innocent she would shake her head and say nothing.

And no one ever would.


End file.
